


No Way Back

by Lyras



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyras/pseuds/Lyras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Percy's twentieth birthday and a year since he fell out with his family. Does he have any regrets?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Way Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lls_mutant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lls_mutant/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Come Talk To Me](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/756) by Lls_mutant. 



> Thank you so much to A for beta-reading! The epigraph is from _Girl in a tree_ by The Young Republic.

_Hello, hello, you have a reason to come down now  
Hello, hello you have a reason to get out now_

 

Percy has only one photograph of his family. He keeps it, not for sentimental reasons but because he feels he should have one. It doesn't have a public life like his other pictures (Percy with his Head Boy badge and Penelope smiling proudly at him; Percy shaking hands with Cornelius Fudge); instead, it is shoved into his sock drawer along with his Christmas jumper (from two years ago - he sent back the last one).

Penelope pulls it out occasionally. This time, once she's remarked dryly that perhaps he could put his own socks away, she lingers over the photograph.

"You all look so happy together," she says.

Percy grunts. On the night before his twentieth birthday, he is in no mood to think of his family.

"But you do," says Penny.

"Well, we weren't," Percy snaps. "At least, I wasn't."

Once she's out of the room, though, he pulls out the picture. It was taken in Egypt: their only proper holiday that Percy remembers. There's Bill, grinning, the centre of attention and not caring a whit about it, and the twins (didn't _they_ have fun with all Bill's curse gadgets, he remembers). Then there's Ginny and Ron, looking like such kids that it's hard to remember they they're almost grown up. Finally, his eyes pass over his father, looking cheerful and carefree, and then his mother.

She looks so happy in that moment, with most of her family close by. Percy looks at the image of himself, at his flashing Head Boy badge, and wonders if she'd have cared if he hadn't gone along.

Probably not, a bitter voice inside him mutters. After all, she had Bill (her darling) and the twins for entertainment, and her babies, Ron and Ginny. Why would she want you?

But her smile seems to speak to him in its happiness, and he reaches blindly for the jumper that is stuffed at the back of the drawer.

Even after his father stopped speaking to him, she sent him a jumper. He knows she must have been heartbroken when he sent it back.

His mother. His mum, who loved him no matter what he did; no matter that he wasn't clever like Bill, a Quidditch star like Charlie or amusing like the twins. From her, he'd never had the slightest hint that he was a disappointment - in fact, the harder he'd worked, the prouder she'd been.

The bedroom door creaks and Penny looks into the room again. She puts a hand on his arm.

"You miss them, don't you?"

"No," he lies, and her face falls.

"Oh. Well, good night." She kisses his cheek and turns to the bed.

She's asleep by the time he joins her, and he lies on his back, pondering. It's been a year. A year in which, after that one dizzying promotion, his career hasn't progressed. Oh, yes, he's been in constant contact with Fudge and Dolores, but their star has been eclipsed by Scrimgeour's, and who knows what will happen in the Ministry reshuffle? Scrimgeour has promised change, action, and Percy suspects that his place in this new order will be a minor one.

He pictures his mother again, smiling from the photo with that look of fond pride that he associates with her.

He always loved making her proud. It hurts that he can no longer do so.

 

Next morning, he's buttering toast when the post arrives. Even as he pays the owl, he can see that one of the letters bears the Ministry of Magic crest, and unrolls it quickly.

Scrimgeour wants to see him, 'to discuss his position'. Is that good or bad? A demotion? Already, he's mentally composing arguments: he's shown himself to be capable, loyal, 'a reliable aide in a pinch' as Dolores once said. Would it be tacky to ask her for a reference, or is he being premature?

Penny kisses his cheek and reads the note over his shoulder. Her arms tighten on his waist, but all she says is, "You've got other letters."

He follows her gaze to the table: one scroll, on which he recognises Charlie's lazy, looping handwriting even at this distance, and one smaller, more anonymous package.

"I'll open them later," he says. His head is full of what he'll say to Scrimgeour.

"They might be birthday greetings," she says softly.

He thinks of the small collection of cards in the living room, the single present from Penny when once there would have been a heap of assorted gifts.

Which reminds him: he wouldn't put it past the twins to send him one of their horrible tricks for his birthday.

"I don't have time now." But he scoops the post into his bag before leaning in to kiss her. "If I'm not back, I'll go straight to the Cauldron this evening. See you there."

"Good luck with Scrimgeour!" she calls an instant before he Apparates.

 

Reaching into his bag later that morning, Percy is confronted by the two missives. He pulls them out and eyes them warily, then unrolls Charlie's first, it being less likely to enrage him.

Scanning it, it's a moment before he can really take in what Charlie is saying, the tone is so different from his usual one.

"Mate," Charlie has written, "I've been biting my tongue about this for a long time, because I've been trying to stay out of things. But it occurred to me that maybe I'm doing you a disservice by not trying to talk some sense into you. Because, honestly, Percy, I think you're being a complete prat over this feud you've got going with Mum and Dad, and if you're not bloody unhappy, you should be. I know they are.

"Look, now things are clear, can't you just admit you were wrong? Voldemort's back - Dumbledore was right, your bosses were wrong~~ and anyone could've seen it~~.

"Rationality's always been your strong point, so I don't understand why you're being completely irrational about this. Can't you at least reconsider? I hate to think of you all being so miserable, lonely and pig-headed over this."

Percy crumples the letter up with trembling hands. He was always closer to Charlie than the rest: they were an odd couple, certainly, but then, they were the two oddballs of the family, so why not? Of all the people who might have spoken to him like this, Charlie should be the last. On his birthday, too! Not a word about that, just a barrage of abuse: _complete prat...should be unhappy...you were wrong...pig-headed_.

To his shock, he is blinking back tears. That's that, then. His last link with his family broken, because he won't be reading any more of Charlie's letters. Besides, Charlie - like the rest of them, he thinks bitterly - has missed the point. Percy didn't take offence because his family disagreed with him over Fudge versus Dumbledore. He took offence because his father refused to believe he had earned his promotion through merit, rather than through some weird scheme to allow Fudge to spy on Dumbledore.

Happy birthday, Percy, he wishes himself grimly.

On the other package, he belatedly recognises Bill's spare writing. At least it's not some awful joke from the twins, then. But Bill, too, has taken sides in this feud, if only by omission, and Percy's in no mood to read more reproaches.

On his way down to lunch, he drops Charlie's letter in the parchment shredder and delivers Bill's to the post-room, marked 'Return to sender'. Why should he read a letter from someone who has pretended he didn't exist for the past year?

 

He emerges from Scrimgeour's office light with relief. Scrimgeour was cold and abrupt - nothing like Fudge with his fatherly manner - but at least you know where you are with him. And Percy knows that his job is safe as long as he does it well. That's never been one of his problems.

No time like the present, as poor Mr Crouch was fond of saying, so Percy turns toward his office once more. He may as well cement his reputation as a good worker.

But as he sits down to his work, some of Scrimgeour's words come back to him and he frowns. Why does Scrimgeour want to know about Ron's friendship with Harry Potter, and about the time Harry's spent at The Burrow? Why all those leading questions about Ginny? Of course she isn't romantically involved with Harry; she's only a child!

He pictures his two youngest siblings - although since he's seen so little of them in the past year, their images have been superseded by the ones in the Egypt portrait: Ron gangly and vulnerable, wearing an excited grin; Ginny small and smiling, with something shuttered behind her eyes.

A bubble of guilt pops in his chest, because Ginny represents his biggest failure (unless you count being deceived about Mr Crouch during the Triwizard Tournament, and Percy chooses not to do so). All through that school year, he'd thought she was just shy and overwhelmed, and it turns out she was possessed by Voldemort! He will never forget being called into the study to be told that she was probably dead, taken by Slytherin's monster...

_Harry and Ginny must have a very special relationship, don't you think?_ Scrimgeour asked casually. _He saved her life, after all._

Percy doesn't want to think. He wants to forget about the fact that he was so absorbed that year, between Penny, getting to grips with NEWTs and doing his best to secure his candidacy for the position of Head Boy, that he failed to notice how desperately miserable his little sister must have been.

He would also like to know, he thinks as he pulls out the minutes of this morning's cabinet meeting, why everything in his life has to come down to Harry Bloody Potter.

When he makes it to the pub, Penny is already there, laughing with Horace and Leandra at a table in the corner. She looks unusually relaxed, and he halts in the doorway to watch her. Things have been strained between them recently; she's started talking about where their relationship is going and wondering if they want the same things out of life. What Percy wants is very simple: a successful career, with the wife and two children he believes are required for this purpose. But he's learned not to say this in so many words to Penny, because when he does she looks sad and tells him she doesn't have it in her to be a trophy wife.

Tonight is going to be different, he tells himself, and when he joins the table he kisses her on the lips.

 

And the night _does_ go well. Horace and Leandra are more Penelope's friends than his, but Percy's always found it easy to get on with Ravenclaws. He likes that they're not afraid to discuss thorny issues, and their chat is easy if voluble...until someone smashes a glass and he turns to find George and Fred watching him with the kind of disgust usually reserved for slugs in a salad.

Percy is filled with cold rage. It's always about _them_. Since he was little, they have tormented him and teased him, never once pausing to think that maybe, just maybe, the high moral ground is his. It never occurred to them that he might be hurt by their constant mocking. They have never apologised for a single trick.

Tightening his hand on Penny's knee until she gasps, he turns back to the table.

"So as I was saying," he begins, adopting his most pompous tone, "I think the Ministry should only provide loans to small businesses that are to be a benefit to the wizarding world, not something that exists solely for the amusement of the owners."

The others gape at him - he was saying nothing of the kind before the interruption - but Leandra jumps in good-naturedly.

"Ah, but how do you define whether a business will benefit the wizarding world?"

"I would suggest that there are several criteria for this," Percy answers. Around him, the chatter is resuming and the tension receding. He launches into his arguments, and when he looks around, the twins are gone.

 

Percy stumbles into the kitchen and squints at the clock. Three am. If he doesn't get some sleep soon, he'll be useless at work.

He roots around in Penny's remedy cupboard and selects some powdered valerian to stir into a mug of spiced milk. He powered through the rest of the meal on a wave of angry triumph, but his feeling of victory lasted only until the light went off in the bedroom. Since then, he has been besieged by thoughts: of his family, face upon reproachful face; of all the insults that he endured over the years; of his discussion with Scrimgeour and the way it echoed certain themes common to his conversations with Fudge.

Sitting at the kitchen table, his fingers curled around the mug, he finally admits what part of him has known for a while. His father was right to be suspicious of the reasons behind Percy's promotion.

Yes, Percy was a high-flyer at Hogwarts. Yes, he'd had a good start to his career. Yes, he'd shown initiative (taking orders from Mr Crouch and covering for him when he stayed away from work for _months_). But that initiative hadn't impressed anyone at the time - in fact, he had been reprimanded very strongly for it. Fudge had even suggested that if the Ministry had had prompt notice of the situation, Mr Crouch's death might have been averted.

And then, less than two weeks later, an about-turn. That job offer, which was beyond anything he'd dreamed (although not beyond his capability).

He'd hurried home, mind whirling with phrases like 'head-hunted' and 'reflecting my performance'. But his father's response had not been to congratulate him. Instead, he had stood by silently as Percy's mother had hugged him and told him he always made her so proud...and then he'd cleared his throat and asked whether Percy had thought the situation through.

This is the part that really hurts, Percy thinks as he sips his milk. Whatever the truth, it hurts that his father could not pretend, even for a moment, to believe in his triumph.

Secondary to this is another realisation that he's been suppressing for a while: that his father, with all his years of experience as a Ministry drudge, might be more politically astute than him. Percy long ago stopped seeing his father as someone to learn from, but the evidence against this assumption is looking compelling. While he was off taking notes for Dolores on limiting communication at Hogwarts, his father was working for Dumbledore (who turns out to have been right about Voldemort all along) and being seriously injured in the line of duty.

Percy shivers, remembering those feverish nights just before Christmas when his life seemed to hang on the latest report from St Mungo's. When his father reappeared at work, it took all Percy's strength not to run to him, embrace him, tell him how relieved he was.

Because that was another realisation: that his father would not be around forever. He _won't_ be. Neither will his mother, nor Bill, Charlie, Fred and George, Ron and Ginny.

Voldemort is back; the world is full of danger, and he might lose his family at any moment, so what is he doing carrying on a silly feud?

Charlie's letter comes back to him, and Bill's. Perhaps he shouldn't have sent the latter back unread. It might have been important.

His eyes swivel to the scroll and quill on the counter. It would be so easy to write: to say, 'I was wrong. I am sorry.'

Then he thinks of what he has done - of all the ways he has rejected them in the past year. Perhaps the differences between them are too fundamental. Perhaps they all despise him now. Thinking of Fred and George's expressions that evening, it's easy to believe that.

It's been a year, and none of his family has wished him a happy birthday today.

No, he's burned his bridges. He empties his mug, drops his arms onto the table and rests his head on them.

He's on his own.


End file.
